A Turn of the Screwed [Suncoast Society] (Siren Publishing Sensations)

by Tymber Dalton

  “Ask me for it,” Keith ordered. “Beg me to fuck your ass.”

  “Please, Sir,” Scott said. “Please fuck your boy’s ass.”

  Holy shit, it was all he could do to hold back.

  Your boy.

  Yeah, that sounded right. More than right.

  It sounded good.

  Keith slowly pressed forward, not wanting to hurt him but also knowing the butt plug had definitely loosened him up. What he wanted to do was fuck the man, hard, drive him damn near off the bed.

  But he didn’t. He took his time, little bits of progress at a time before withdrawing just to press forward again. He watched Scott’s face, the way his lower lip caught under his teeth, the rise and fall of his chest, the soft moans as the knob of Keith’s cock completely breached his ring of muscle.

  Scott gasped, his moans louder.

  “Yeah, you know you’ve got a cock in your ass now, don’t you?” He paused where he was, giving the man time to get used to it, wanting him to enjoy it as much as he was.

  Besides, the man’s ass felt too damn good. He knew he’d blow if he took it too fast. Instead, he grabbed Scott’s cock and slowly stroked him.

  “You want more?” Keith asked him.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “You want my whole cock inside your ass?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Not a virgin anymore, are you?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “You sucked your first cock tonight, taking your first cock up your ass—you belong to me now, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Sir!”

  He eased his own cock deeper a small stroke at a time, wanting to savor this and yet dying to bust a nut.

  Finally, when his thighs were pressed against Scott’s, he took a deep breath before withdrawing, just the head of his cock still inside him. Another long, slow press forward, his hand falling still on Scott’s iron cock.

  “Feel good?”

  Scott nodded. “Yes, Sir!”

  He started stroking Scott’s cock again, harder, faster, knowing the man was close. “Come for me, boy. Let me feel you come for the first time with a cock in your ass.”

  Scott’s eyes almost but didn’t quite close all the way as he let out a low moan, his hips trying to buck in time with Keith’s strokes. Then Keith felt it, the seismically sexy feeling of Scott’s ass contracting around his cock just before he started filling the end of the condom.

  “Oh, fuck, boy. Such a good boy you are for me.” Keith leaned in, grabbed Scott’s hands, and shoved them over his head. He started pounding his cock into him, fingers digging into the other man’s wrists, lips just over Scott’s.

  “Who owns this ass now?”

  “You do, Sir!”

  “Who just came with my cock all the way up inside you?”

  “Your boy did, Sir!”

  That was it. With that, Keith exploded, falling still with his dick firmly fisted in Scott’s ass. He slanted his lips over Scott’s and crushed his mouth onto his, fucking him with his tongue.

  Got to find my cock ring. He’d need it for the next several times he fucked the man. He just felt too good, too perfect.

  And Scott was eagerly kissing him back, too, even as he was pinned there with his legs over Keith’s shoulders and his hands over his head.

  He felt the ledge start to give way under the foot still planted at the edge.

  I’m in trouble.

  * * * *

  It felt nothing like the strap-on.

  At all.

  Not even remotely.

  So much better, so much hotter, the animalistic, raw, needy, hard fuck had changed Scott forever.

  Yes, if things went well between them, he could easily see himself falling for this guy, and hard.

  Scott just hoped the guy didn’t turn out to be a jerk.

  He stared up into Keith’s eyes, hoping he hadn’t just made a damned big mistake.

  Scott even loved the way the other man’s body pinned him to the bed, the weight of his hard muscles, the feel of him catching his breath.

  Keith let go of his wrists but then he cupped the back of Scott’s head, fingers digging in as he kissed him again, hard, deep, possessively.

  “If you think I’m going to let you just walk out of my life after this weekend, think again.”

  Scott kept his hands over his head. “Ditto.”

  Keith raked his other hand through Scott’s hair, front to back, almost tenderly.

  “Let’s get cleaned up,” Keith said, sounding hoarse. “I think we need to talk some more.”

  Chapter Seven

  Kennedy not quite intoxicated was even more annoying that Kennedy intoxicated. Her rapid-fire chatter over dinner sped up into machine gun bursts that made Noel wish she had a ball gag there to shove in her friend’s mouth.

  “So how you been dealing with Stacy Moog’s bitch of a mom this year?” Kennedy asked Noel.

  Kennedy taught fourth graders. Many of Kennedy’s students from last year had ended up in Noel’s class this year.

  “I had another go-round with her last week,” Noel said, at least glad to be talking about something work-related to keep her mind off…other things. “Stacy flunked another spelling test. I’m bringing in the guidance counsellor for an eval. I seriously think she’s got some sort of a learning disability going on. Her math skills are iffy, too.”

  “Dyslexia?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. I would have thought it’d be caught sooner.”’

  “She was homeschooled until the middle of last year. Her parents got divorced and her mom had to go back to work.”

  Noel groaned. “Crap.”

  “You didn’t know that?”

  “No. Nobody told me that. I only looked at your summary notes from the end of last year. I didn’t go through her full records. I’ve got thirty kids in my class. That explains a lot.”

  “Hey, good luck with that. I tried and tried and beat my head against that wall. Momma Moog went to the principal and Mary basically told me to let Stacy advance since her grades were borderline. Gave her some extra credit stuff to do in a couple of areas, she pulled it off. Bam. Not my problem. She barely passed the FCATs last year.”

  Eliza had been listening to their conversation. “What about the standardized testing and stuff?”

  “Yeah, that’s all bullshit,” Kennedy told her. “We’re teaching to the test now, basically. And the tests are bullshit. They don’t want to hurt the kids’ self-esteem by holding them back. A student would just about have to blow up the school at this point to get held back a year in grade school.”

  “Gee, thanks for the heads-up,” Noel shot back, now thoroughly irritated at her friend. They were already ramping up for FCATs and Noel wasn’t sure the girl could even pass them.

  “I’m sorry. Like you, I’m dealing with thirty kids, including four who are ESL. Fortunately for me, my Spanish is better than their English, and I’ve nearly gotten them up to speed so they can at least advance to the next grade without being totally in the weeds when they get there.”

  “Sorry.” Noel picked through her risotto with her fork. “I’m just getting really burned out. I had high hopes for being a teacher. I wanted to help make a difference. Now it feels like the system’s beating me down and trying to get me to conform to the lowest common denominator.”

  She was also struggling not to feel that maybe her asshole family had been right that she’d made a mistake by choosing teaching as a career.

  “Well, you’ve seen the light now,” Kennedy said. “That’s about what it amounts to at this point. Just watch yourself on Facebook. That Moog woman is a nut. Don’t let her friend you.”

  “Oh, I haven’t, don’t worry.” She didn’t friend any of the parents of her students. Not unless it was after the school year and she was friends with them in real life as well. Heck, there were very few of her fellow teachers she friended. She didn’t even have her occupation listed on her profile. She did have Scott listed as her husband
, and her college and hometown, but that was only so she could stay in touch with her friends from high school and college up in Indiana.

  And her brothers and sisters, for what good it did her.

  What did it say that she had more contact with them via Facebook than she did on the phone or real life?

  Her parents weren’t even on Facebook, so she had even less contact with them. They were too busy with their lives to pay her much attention, and any time she did call them to say hello, the condescension flowed like rancid honey through the connection.

  She didn’t need that.

  When they finished dinner, Eliza drove them home, dropping Kennedy off first. As they headed toward Noel’s, Eliza broached the subject.

  “So how are you going to handle this weekend?”

  Noel shrugged. “I don’t know. Not thinking about it, I guess.”

  “What if he meets someone?”

  “Part of me hopes he does, and part of me hopes he doesn’t. I know what the inevitable conclusion will be, and I want him to be happy, but I can’t help but selfishly hope we keep going the way we are.”

  “Which isn’t fair to either of you.”

  “I know.”

  “Sometimes, you have to make the hard decisions, take the hard risks, to make a better life for yourself.”

  “I have a good life now,” she quietly said.

  “Uh, yeah. You’re forcing yourself to be his Dominant, when you hate doing it.”

  Noel looked at her.

  “Honey, please,” Eliza said. “I top Rusty all the time. I have fun doing it. Watching you and Scott…it’s painful. For me, anyway. You’re just so not into it, it’s sad. I can see it. Maybe because I know you two better than some people, but I watch you play and just want to smack the crap out of Scott for pushing you into this role.”

  “He didn’t push me into it.”

  “Bullshit. Maybe he didn’t force you into it, but he’s not backing off and giving you the freedom of choice.”

  “He is.”

  Eliza glanced at her, eyebrow raised.

  “I want to make him happy.”

  “Making yourself unhappy is not the way to do it.”

  “I’m already unhappy, so what difference does it make?”

  “Wow. That’s a pretty fatalistic viewpoint.”

  “It’s just a matter of if, not when, he meets a guy. Then we end up getting divorced. Then…” She turned away, looking out the passenger window.

  “Again, not a healthy point of view to have,” Eliza pointed out, “but it’s your life. I’m your friend.” She sighed. “Do you want to spend the weekend at our place? The mini-me isn’t coming home this weekend for a visit. You can get out of your head for a while. Maybe a change of location will do you good.”

  “No, I’m okay. I’m used to being alone at home. I’ll just pretend he’s at work.”

  They pulled into Noel’s driveway. Eliza shifted the car into park and turned to her.

  “I’m not trying to tell you how to run your life. But I’m concerned about you. If your worry is a place to live, you can live with us if you leave him. You’ve got summer coming up in a couple of months. Maybe that’s when you need to take the leap and make the changes so that going into next school year you’re settled and have that all behind you.”

  “Maybe he’ll come home this weekend with it out of his system.”

  “Sweetie? I’m your friend. And I’m calling bullshit. If you want me to piss on your leg and tell you it’s raining, I’m not that kind of friend. I can’t be. I’m the brutally honest friend who’ll walk through fire with you, but I won’t lie to you. There is an ocean of fish out there. Trying to get one guppy in a small fish bowl to take the hook when you’re fishing with the wrong bait isn’t going to lead to anything good. And you know it.”

  “But I love him.”

  “I know that, too. Sometimes the kindest thing we can do for the people we love the most is to let them go, even if it rips us apart from the inside out. By holding onto him, you’re denying yourself the opportunity to move forward. You need to go through the grief process. You’ve anchored one of your feet in a concrete block of denial, and the other in a block of bargaining. That’s not how life works. Two years, honey.”

  Noel felt the tears slipping down her cheeks and didn’t bother wiping them away. “I know.”

  “Two years. It’s been two years now you’ve tried and been miserable. Two years of your life you can’t get back. Now, I’ll be the first to applaud you for your tenacity and love and devotion to the guy. You gave it your best shot. But, honestly? You’re starting to slip from tenacious into blind martyrdom, and that’s not healthy for you or for him.”

  Noel knew all of that. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t already told herself.

  But to finally hear someone else say it…

  “I know.”

  “Obviously, it’s your life. What kind of life is it? Neither of you are living authentically at this point.” She leaned in and hugged Noel. “I’m always here to talk if you need me. Okay?”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  Eliza waited until Noel was inside her front door to back out of the driveway. Inside the empty house, Noel stood there and looked around.

  It felt different.

  Yes, she could tell herself Scott was just at work, but she knew that was a lie.

  Just like her life was a lie.

  She didn’t even bother turning the lights on. She locked the door behind her, dumped her purse on the table in the entryway, and headed toward the bedroom to get a shower.

  * * * *

  The next morning, Noel lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. It was a little after five in the morning.

  Unfortunately, she wasn’t the kind of person who could sleep late on the weekends. She hadn’t had enough to drink the night before to give her a hangover, unfortunately.

  Then at least she would have had an excuse to stay curled in bed in a fetal position and ignore the papers she’d brought home that needed to be graded.

  With a resigned sigh, she climbed out of bed and went to start the coffee. Today, she suspected, she’d need the whole damn pot.

  Throughout the night, she’d tossed and turned, trying not to think about the fact that Scott wasn’t at work.

  That he was out. Probably with someone.

  Her reasoning being that if he wasn’t with someone, he would have called her, chatted with her, or at least texted her more. She’d vowed not to be uber-clingy wife, to not text him every ten minutes.

  She had a life besides him. She did. A job, friends, hobbies. She wasn’t some weak woman who considered herself the half of a whole. By herself, she was a complete person. It wasn’t healthy to look at things any other way than that.

  But Scott was a huge part of her life and one she wasn’t looking forward to losing, either.

  After the coffeepot was burbling, she retrieved her phone from her purse.

  No texts.

  Not that she’d expected any. Scott, with his years of crazy scheduling, could drop off to sleep in minutes, and sleep late if he had a day off. She envied him that ability.

  Especially now.

  I wonder what he’s doing.

  She eyed her messenger bag sitting on the floor in the foyer, where she’d dumped it yesterday after getting home from work. In it, at least three hours’ worth of work.

  I guess I’d better get on it.

  Returning to the kitchen, she grabbed her mug, fixed herself a cup of coffee, and headed back to the living room to get to work.

  Chapter Eight

  Scott felt a moment of disorientation when he awoke a little after seven Saturday morning in the hotel bed.

  Especially when he felt the warm, hard body pressed along his back, an arm draped over his waist.

  It took every ounce of will Scott had not to snuggle against the man’s body.

  They’d talked last night into the wee hours of the morning before making love again.
This time, actually making love, not just a Sir and his boy. And Keith had gone down on him, making him come again, in a condom but still damned good.

  They had a lot in common. Too much, almost. In a good but scary way.

  It almost felt like Scott had met a long-lost twin.

  He also knew just walking away from Keith wouldn’t be possible. This wasn’t a simple weekend fuck.

  This was the start of something real.

  That it felt very much like what he’d felt for Noel when he’d first met her scared him even more, because he realized that truly signified the beginning of the end of them. Of their marriage and the life they had together, the past.

  It meant she’d be forced to start over, facing her asshole family alone.

  Maybe we could just fake it. Not tell them about the divorce. I could go with her at holidays and pretend we’re still married so she doesn’t have to listen to them. Unless she meets someone else.

  In a way he felt guilty over having nudged her—okay, pushed her—into a dominant role for the past two years. She’d tried. Tried damned hard, out of love and the desire to make him happy.

  It wasn’t her fault it hadn’t been enough. The problem had been his, not hers.

  The more he’d talked with Keith about that, spilling things to him he hadn’t been able to talk to anyone else about, the more the realization struck him that the sacrifices Noel had made for him over the past couple of years, since he’d admitted to her he was gay, spoke to the depths of love she had for him.

  He felt like a real shit for doing that to her without realizing the silent price she was likely paying.

  Behind him, Keith stirred, pulling him closer, his hard cock nestled along the seam of Scott’s ass. “Good morning,” he mumbled, nibbling on the back of Scott’s neck.

  Scott closed his eyes, sucking in a slow, deep breath. “Good morning, Sir.”

  Keith patted him on the abs, where his hand rested. “Keith and Scott this morning, at least until after breakfast. I want to talk some more. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Keith made Scott roll over to face him. He had brown eyes, not like Noel’s, a different shade. Hers contained flecks of amber and green, while Keith’s were dark, like mocha, or rich, creamy coffee.